


Long Dead

by CheshireGrins



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-27
Updated: 2011-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-17 07:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireGrins/pseuds/CheshireGrins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is in a rare moment of lucidness that they realize a crushing truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Blarghlkneryeru.
> 
>  
> 
> Title: long Dead  
> Fandom: KHR  
> Rating: K+  
> Warnings: ....Slash? Homosexual implications?  
> Pairings/Characters: Sawada Tsunayoshi, Rokudo Mukuro, Hibari Kyoya, 18 -> 27 Summary: It was all in a moment of lucidness that they both realized a rather crushing truth.  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Reborn.

 

 _He couldn't be gone._

 

Yet, he was.

 

It was all spelled out with the cruel Italian words on the expensive parchment. Written with the finest black ink. But told him the crudest message. But it was all just a message. He should have expected it. He had been told before hand. So why...

 

Why had such a message, written with the finest inks, on expensive parchment, and sealed with the blasted seal, such a blow to his gut?

 

Why had the words made him weak in his knees, and his eyes itch in irritation? Why? Why? _Why?_

 

He burns it, and...

 

 _Flashes of a burning sky flame.._

 _  
_

_Soaring through the air, like a dance of victory,_

 _  
_

_Flickering.. Like a message._

 _  
_

_He speaks, but he does not make sound._

 _He cries, but he does not shed tears._

 _He is bound, but free._

 _  
_

_He was. But then, he was not._

 

Everything is so clear in a moment of time, when they show up. In collective suits, like always, like the weak animals they are; to care for appearances. But it is not like always. One was missing. They were in all black. Unlike usual, a voice, dreaded and despised, whispers and he nearly breaks. He does not because he is strong. Unlike them, unlike the Storm who is red eyed and weak and so god damned near breaking into little pieces. (He ignores the feelings inside him because they burn, burn, and while carnivores were the strongest, they were _all still animals_ and they knew and hated and left alone what hurt them.)

 

 

BREAKBREAKBEAKBREAKGODDAMMITBREAK. He ignores it. So annoying.

 

“ _Noioso_ ,”he whispers.

  
\----

 

Haha, it was all lie, wasn't it?

 

Just like the ones he told, fabricated of threads of deceiving smiles and heterogeneous eyes. But then he feels the paper through his medium, and it all felt so real. The parchment in his hand, loopy letters... Black, black ink. Death.

 

Haha, but this was what he wanted, right? The destruction of this world..? Without their leader, without their leader, useless. So... Why?

 

 _Why do your smiles feel so empty?_

 _  
_

_Why do these dreams (memoriesmemoriesmemories) make me feel this..?_

 _  
_

_Is this my own punishment?_

 _  
_

_To see you, but to never feel you?_

 _(Oh, but he never had.)_

 _To hear you, but to never understand?_

 _(Not when you spoke such cryptic words...)_

 _To want to be free, only to regret it?_

 _(For once, he does not wish to be free. Not when it meant to be real.)_

 

This was his punishment. This burning desire. He watches them come for her. When they came, she cried. _She cried._ ( _He would've held them both in a warm embrace of awkward arms and quiet acceptance._ ) He isn't here anymore. And there is no one else to help them, because they are _all_ too broken to dance.

 

 _Eyes were the window to the soul._

 

They were all so broken, even a week after his death. Pathetic... So pathetic. He was not like them; he was strong. So he recedes, and goes back to his world. Where he still had everything.

 

But for once, he does not wish to be free, not when it meant papers telling of death and worlds without skies.

 

Pathetic.

   
\---

 

He would have cried. He would have preferred something simpler. They knew. One knew because it was discussed. Another because it was pure instinct.

 

He would have also comforted them. The crying, pathetic, _family_ ( _A weak protest_ : "You're family, too!”). They were strong, like kings, like pillars. But every pillar had to collapse sometime. But not today. Never on this day.

 

Then, with a sudden moment of lucidness, they both realized. He was dead. Dead. _DeadDeadDead_ **Dead**.

 

“Dead,” they whispered synonymously, and for once, don't care. Because he was dead, gone. And no matter what type of scheme, no matter what illusion, no matter what reassuring “ it'll be alright” is uttered, it won't change the fact that he was dead.

 

 

 _One still heart, two broken ones. Five mourning._

 


End file.
